


Artificial Eloquence

by disquisitemind



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Robot Series - Isaac Asimov
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 03:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2493191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disquisitemind/pseuds/disquisitemind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is an aspiring social reformist, Grantaire is the young man that walks into his court.</p><p>A non-chronological love story spanning Earth to Aurora.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Artificial Eloquence

“It is amazing that your humanity has remained untested.” R remarks one day, heckling Enjolras, who has only now just paused to sip water nearly an hour into a tirade that seems counter-intuitive. The entire bar silents itself. This is the first thing R has said directly to Enjolras within the parameters of meeting at the Musain to speak about political aspirations.

There were, of course, exchanges that had built up a report, as R has lived with Enjolras and Combferre for nearly 3 months now. However they, as the Les Amis, only meet once a month, and though the first meeting R had attended was accidental, there was no contention to be made. The second meeting R had decided to leave alone, as he was still growing to understand the dynamics of the court. In the process he had unwittingly set a standard of unknowing and no-comments.

“Excuse me?”

“It is amazing that though you preach of the sanctity of the human condition, the availability of emotion and the eternal ability of humanity to thrive and strive for the betterment of others, you have completely ignored one of the fastest rising sociological issues of our era.”

“Oh really.” There is a podium that Enjolras’ likes to use as he holds court. It is the same as he leans against now, but for some reason the wood is unwelcoming to his forearm. It is perhaps because he has never had occasion to lean against it before now, instead using it only as a paper holder.

“Yes.” R takes a drink of scotch, and he revels for just a moment in the attention that he holds.

“Well?” Someone says from their table. “What is it?”

“Robots.” Enjolras frowns, and leans away from the podium, glancing down at his notes before returning R’s gaze, but not his grin.

“You’re joking.”

“Of course not.” R says, his grin slipping as he notices the blank stares and raised eyebrows of the entire cafe. “I’m not joking. Don’t tell me you don’t keep up with American news?”

“Of course I keep up with-” Enjolras starts, but R raises his hand.

“Then you would know that the US Robots and Mechanical Men Corp have successfully made their first self-thinking robot.” The cafe is silent, but then R grins, and Joly laughs, Cosette with him.

“I do not think our impassioned leader looks much like something so...unemotional.” Courfeyrac says, which prompts the entire cafe into laughter, barring Enjolras and R.

=====

R does not let his new friends know that he cannot inebriate himself. He has never quite been able to, and even as he longs for a day when more than the taste of alcohol is available, R grants that his hyper-awareness is instead a blessing.

=====

It is not a strange occurrence for R to not quite know what country he’s in. Sure, he tends to recognize the language spoken, but he can’t figure out accents for the life of him. It also doesn’t help that, despite his aptitude for languages, speaking English continues to escape him. His tongue simply refuses to function around the non-phonetic, and he hasn’t even heard it spoken until now that he’s actually paying attention to where he is.

=====

It is not as though R haunts the Musain. It is as though he haunts Enjolras. As soon as the situation of ‘returning home’ had arose and it was discovered that R had no where to return to. R had made the jesting remark that he was a vagabond, forever doomed wander. Combferre (a fellow of Enjolras’ court) had immediately offered his couch, much to Enjolras’ protest as it meant that he would have to clean. Taking the cleaning comment as the joke it was intended to be (after an explanation from Cosette) R followed them to a 2 bedroom apartment not 4 blocks away. It was small, could comfortably fit him, and R was content.

=====

The Cafe Musain sits on a corner, its open sign blinks green, and the rain never hits the windows because of the large canopies that are spread above them. Through the window R can see a stage, and on it, a young blonde man. His stomach drops, and he opens the door, walking to the bar, ordering a drink and sitting down. He can’t understand anything that’s being said, and really, he can’t remember how he found the Musain anyway.

It’s almost as though his entire life had faded away and all he can see is the young man’s hands; knuckles whitening as they grip cue cards just a bit more, the curve of each finger so entirely delicate, the palm glistening just slightly with sweat. There is a young woman at R’s elbow, equally enthralled with the young man, and another young man at her other elbow, enthralled with her. R watches them both with interest before she catches his eye and turns to address him. “Hi!” She whispers, as though intruding upon the young man’s speech were a crime.

“I’m Cosette.” She extends one hand, palm raised, and R grasps her fingers. He can’t respond, he doesn’t know what she’s saying. “What’s your name?”

R grins and cocks his head, looking down at their hands. He’s grasped her fingers with his own now, feeling the ridges of her prints, the sides of her fingernails. Her smile has become strained. “Are you all right?”

This has caught the attention of the other young man at her elbow. “Dude, are you okay?” R grins at them both, reading their sincerity and hoping to absolve their concern.

“ _I am R. ...I am...R?_ ” He asks, grasping at straws for his identification, his species, his home, his name, anything. It’s standard to introduce the self first. He knows this. He can’t remember his name. The grasp on Cosette’s fingers grows tighter and she winces. Immediately R’s hand releases his grasp, a small, choked sob passing parched lips and tears escaping eyes reading far too much into a situation. “ _I am sorry, I am so sorry._ ”

“I don’t think he speaks English.” The young man at Cosette’s elbow says, and she nods, waving over a burly, relatively old, man. “Feuilly! Do you think you could help us figure out what language...um..I don’t know his name.” Cosette glances apologetically in his direction, and R takes no offense, only cocking his head and grabbing his drink, raising it to his mouth.

He drinks.“ _I have not consumed this plant before_.”

“It sounds...similar to French.” “But some things he says sound similar to Italian.” Cosette says, turning in her chair to address R fully.

“Maybe German?” The other man says from behind her.

“No, I took German in school.” Cosette says, reaching her hand out once again towards R. Though more wary, he grasps it in his own and plays with her fingers once more. “I would recognize it.” R cocks his head once more before he lets her hand down, and grasps his drink again.

“I am R. I...think I don’t know...English.” Both the man at Cosette’s elbow and Feuilly turn to him in surprise.

“Well, you speak it pretty well.” Cosette says, her wide grin forcing one to R’s face as well.

“I speak _the lingua franca, as well as 3 other languages and a few of their dialects._ ” R says, slipping into his native language once more. This gathers the attention of the young man with delicate hands which are now outstretched before him. R stares.

“Hello; sprechen Sie Deutsch? ou en français? Osoraku nihonjin?”

R stares at the young man’s hand, still. The entire cafe has turned to their drinks, barring the few who were in the court of the young man. The low hum of the cafe is far too loud for R’s ears, but suddenly he can think. R’s eyes ignite, and he still ignores the hand that is offered him, grasping his coffee once more and bringing it to his lips. The rim of the cup almost covers his smile. “No.”

======

R is, without doubt, the strangest poet Joly has ever met. The sun has no effect on R. The only affectation he permits is an ode to the moon. Unfortunately, Enjorlas is far too enrapturing for odes to be effective in any capacity.

That is, instead of rapturing about the light of the sun in Enjolras’ hair (which R has drunkenly confessed to thinking about on many occasions), R writes about the consistency of Enjolras’ hair. He makes guesses as to the number of strands, the exact thickness of the clump that hangs about his Enjolras’ forehead.

He even notes the lack of practicality in the strangely thin eyebrows as “how can they catch the sweat from impassioned speech/ instead they linger and let blind the naive”.

Indeed, as Joly collects loose papers discarded by R, he reads and laughs. Enjolras’ tongue may hold court within the Musain, but it is R that holds the future by his own.

=====

At one moment R was waiting with Daneel , and the next R is in a cafe, Bel Arvadan to his right and a plan to destroy...something... on the table. Then the next moment the table is empty barring one glass, a strange language emitting from an extremely animated human. R sits, confused, lifting the glass to his lips. He wonders, for just a moment, how he got there, before the moment shifts and he is outside. It is raining, and the light to the Cafe Musain is lit. R walks inside.

=====

There is a loud ringing in his head and his steps are uneven. The ground beneath him shakes and his legs quake. For some reason nothing supports his weight and the only way R can keep his body from falling is his hands gripping the table. Enjolras has R’s head in hand. Their eyes connect and the ringing still continues and R knows that normally there is nothing in Enjolras’ eyes, and R knows that normally he can’t see the brown of Enjolras’ roots, and he knows that normally this wouldn’t matter. Something is ringing and Enjorlas’ voice is gone despite his lips. The ground is shaking and even as R’s hands are lifted to Enjolras’ shoulders, he can’t feel the vocal chords in Enjolras’ throat vibrate. R’s legs are stronger than Enjolras, he knows this and yet he is so useless and can only read panic in Enjolras’ eyes, and he shouldn’t be able to see the panic, but he can hear the ringing, and for the first time in a long time R’s eyes close.

=====

Enjolras’ humanity remains untested until he is nearly 50. There is a political campaign in which his opponent has noticed that Enjolras’ never seems to eat, and Enjolras’ knows that the Frankenstein complex will be his campaign’s undoing.

=====

**Author's Note:**

> The prologue takes place in the year 1984 and is far more scattered than the rest of the work. There is no need to understand any of the Foundation or Robot universes that Asimov created (everything will be explained).


End file.
